"In dim eclipse disastrous twilight sheds On
half the nations,
and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs."
- John Milton

Raging flames danced to a
demented tune, the mind of their master, who sat upon his wicked throne and was pleased.
The reek of brimstone was a familiar scent to the Lord of Lies Mephisto, and the comfort
of his abode well worn. He smiled with pleasure as he took up a silver goblet from a
mutilated servant and gulped its bloody contents down his throat in a single sweeping
gesture.

The scarlet-clad beast smiled again, licking the crimson ichor from
his thin lips, and hurled the chalice out into the inferno. He leaned back into his
twisted chair, formed from the very bodies of his victims, their forms frozen and
blackened by ash. Mephisto listened to the delightful tune of the orchestrated screams and
guttural rants of those who remained chained in his dreadful domain. Infants wailed for
their mothers, widows mourned for their husbands, and fallen deities wept for them all!

The demon basked in it all, for the pain was his pleasure, suffering
his boon.

And then an alien scent cut through the venom that permeated his
Hades, and Mephisto's eyes narrowed as he sought out this new presence, an intruder in his
home. He looked about the roaring, licking fires, cast his gaze on the chained bodies of
flayed women, but could not see anything but the familiar.

Yet as the creature's pupil-less orbs perused the smoldering
pathway, which led to his monstrous throne, so was the identity of the interloper revealed
to him? Clad in night armor, which ended in a collar ringing his dangerously thin neck, a
dark blue cape hanging from his small shoulders, the being seemed a strange infant, for
that was what he appeared to be. The entity's head was so overlarge about his stem that it
seemed he would topple over or be crushed beneath the weight of his own skull, which in
itself was veined heavily, those runnels thick with godly ichor. He walked with detached
assurance and confidence, despite his own strange appearance and the surroundings he had
trespassed in.

Mephisto smiled again, serpent-teeth evident within his maw, and
stood to greet this individual. He spread his hands past his sides in welcome, and spoke
with a slippery voice, which produced words, which did not always seem to agree with his
lips.

"Wylig, it has been millennia." the demoniarch said,
nevertheless keeping a watchful eye on this motley being, "What has riled you from
your forced slumber? I remember well your imprisonment all those years ago."

Coming to a halt several meters from the master of the realm, no
fear or caution in his infantile features, the being spoke to Mephisto as an equal, not a
subordinate, "Freedom is mine once again, and freely I stalk the stars. The Tribunal
has transgressed boundaries that are not to be crossed, and his self-important violations
will no longer be tolerated. And there are . . . other matters afoot, as well, as I am
sure you are aware."

Even the demon's eyes widened at these sentiments, a rare occurrence
for a creature so practiced in the arts of deception, "You seek to move against the
Living Tribunal himself, Wylig? You have been ambitious in the past, yet this is far
beyond anything that has been attempted before. Even I would not dare stand against the
might of the Judge, doubly so now that he has been further enhanced by the power of the
Closed Circle."

"That is none of your concern, Mephisto. When the time comes,
my side shall be equipped to nullify any advantage the Tribunal possesses great as it may
be. All things in the Omniverse have an opposite, and an equal, demon. The Tribunal's
reign must come to an end. He is the root of that which we oppose."

The monster eyed Wylig suspiciously for a moment, and was forced to
shake his head, returning to the ghastly throne as he did, "When, and if, you find a
force capable of countering the Tribunal, perhaps I will aid you, if I see benefits for
myself. But until then I am far from foolish enough to oppose the supreme power in the
cosmology." He paused, studying the other entity for a moment, probing for some hint
that he could exploit.

Wylig seemed a wall of quiet fortitude.

"Now what has brought you here, Watcher? Surely you did not pay
me a visit just for idle conversation. I have never known you to be one for
pleasantries."

He inclined his head toward the demon, obviously agreeing with
Mephisto's words, "I have come here to find a voice, Mephisto. I require one to speak
for an entity that cannot. After some observation of my own, I believe that I have found a
such a suitable individual."

"And I am to assume that this being currently resides within my
realm of wicked pleasures?"

"Naturally. He is, in fact, a recent addition. Even now I can
hear his shrieks, filled with outpourings of rage and hatred for those he believed had
abandoned him when he was little more than a babe was. He shall serve as a perfect
articulator."

A small smile flickered on Mephisto's lips as he considered Wylig's
words, "I believe I am familiar with this creature, yet why should I free such a
potent soul merely on your idle wish? What shall I, the Lord of Lies, receive in
return?"

Wylig's features remained stolid, neutral, without a hint of
expression, as he replied to the crimson demon, "Freedom to do as you please, when
the Living Tribunal is vanquished, and his oppression a distant memory."

The devil stroked his angular chin for a few moments, mulling over
what the Dark Watcher had proposed. It was not in his usual nature to accept a bargain
with such Byzantine, nebulous terms. In the past, Mephisto had been more likely to desire
a soul or token of immediate power than an open-ended promise. Yet, save for nearly
countless millennia before, he had not chanced to deal with Wylig, and then he had been
well repaid. That lone fact happened to severely impact any perceptions he had of the
deal.

"Were you nearly anyone else, Wylig, I would laugh in your face
and make you burn for even suggesting such a transaction. However, you are who you are,
and Mephisto has never been a fool."

With a flick of his slender fingers, the demon summoned up a raging
column of flame, which blossomed betwixt the two entities of import. It fluttered in the
realm, before slowly shrinking in upon itself, finally resolving into the huddled form of
a simple man. Clad in nothing save a torn loincloth, he was a pathetic wretch of creature.
He looked about at the two beings, as would a dog that had been beaten far too often, and
fear bloomed in his miss-matched eyes as he looked at the Lord of Lies.

A whimper sounded from the man's lips and he cringed away at the
sight of Mephisto, drawing another dreadful smile from the lord of the place. Yet, despite
his decrepit and wizened condition, his skin shining a light pink and blistered from the
heat, the hair upon his head reduced to little more then occasional singed tufts, still
could one discern a small bit of eminence within the man. His body was coiled thick with
muscle, and even his furtive moments betrayed the power he had once used blatantly. His
left eye glowed golden and Wylig saw through that mirror, gazing at the beast within.

"Are you certain this is who you desire?" Mephisto
questioned, his words probing blades, "The pleasures of my realm have reduced this
man to a pile of rubbish, a mongrel clad in flesh. He is no longer the regal being he was
in life."

"He shall be re-forged in the image of his new master."
Wylig replied without hesitation, his voice still unreadable, "You have burnt away
the wasteful pride and luxury he once possessed, and now all he has is hate, rage, and
pain. I shall fan those flames and when he emerges from the crucible, he shall be hard as
black iron, the perfect Voice."

The devil sensed the capital letter, saw that the twisted Watcher
was quite intent upon transmuting that broken husk of a man into a formidable force, for
the cause and entity he now served, "Take him then, Wylig. The loss of one broken
soul shall not duly impact the state of my realm. Where I lose one, hundreds fall to take
his place."

"I thank you for your contribution, Mephisto. Your role in
things shall not be forgotten. When the time comes, you shall be duly rewarded."

With a simple nod and flick of his wrist, the renegade observer was
gone from the cauldron of torment; his protege too disappeared with him. The demon studied
the space the two had occupied but moments before and stroked his jaw once again,
considering the future.

Last year, we published Azmodi's The Twilight War. The
series was an instant success, and every fan fiction that has been published through this
site since has been compared to it. Now, a year after The Twilight War began, Azmodi is bringing us
the sequel to his classic masterpiece in Foundations Forged Before Nightfall. Now,
see the continuation of the story this Prelude began at the Foundations Forged Before Nightfall
Homepage! But first, leave us comments below... and check out the Twilight War, if you haven't
yet!